


alligator skin boots

by beachboi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Claustrophobia, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of Crying, M/M, Promdyn, Promptis - Freeform, bloody barebacking, established promptis, i don't know how to tag things and i'm sorry, naughty/nice trigger, please be gentle this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-28 01:54:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13893762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beachboi/pseuds/beachboi
Summary: Made submissive by Ardyn's torture, Prompto is given a chance at freedom... but at a cost.





	1. Anna

**Author's Note:**

> wow so this is my first fic that i've been on and off with for a few months, and i figured that the only thing to do was post it. i'm gonna go ahead and put this caveat on the story but i know that the characters' personalities are exaggerated (maybe even inaccurate), and i'm hoping that given the context of their situation, you can at least give me the benefit of the doubt (and hopefully some feedback in the comments!). anyway i'm going to stop putting ideas in your head and let you just go ahead and read so thank you for looking at this and i hope you enjoy!
> 
> inspired by invisibledeity (thank you for blessing ao3 with your work)  
> all titles are mccafferty songs

When Prompto was eleven, there was a devastating blizzard. It had caked the streets with almost ten inches of snow, and turned whatever was protected from the snow to ice. Everything was closed that day, and naturally, his parents weren't able to come home the night before the snowstorm. Maybe if they were there, Prompto wouldn't have gone for a run and nearly broke his ankle four times slipping on ice. Maybe he wouldn't have come all the way back home for a warm shower just to walk back to school. Maybe he wouldn't have been out there for half an hour, pounding as hard and shouting as loud as he could to be let inside. Maybe he wouldn't have almost caught his death of cold that day.

And gods, was it cold that day. The temperature had plummeted to a negative fifteen degrees, uncharacteristic for the moderate climate of Insomnia. Through all Prompto's layers, the cold still found openings through which to bite at his skin until he was red all over. When he'd finally given up, headed home, and started to undress, his toes were tinged with blue. He plunged his feet into a basin of nearly scalding water immediately after. He'd believed that was the coldest that cold could ever get.

He was wrong.

Stuck in the arctic forest that was the outskirts of Niflheim, every pore on his skin was raised to fend against the gnashing cold. Shivers racked his body so violently that he would lose his balance. He had lost the ability to move any of the muscles on his face sometime during the beginning of his "journey." Everything was freezing, and the setting sun wasn't making anything better. Speeding along in any direction he chose on the snowmobile stolen from the Magitek Facility, Prompto knew it was time to search for a place to hide for the night and finally try to get warm.

The gunman had found a shallow, cramped cave and started to build a fire. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was having built more fires than he could count on the road trip to Altissia, and he couldn't help but be proud of himself for being able to do at least this all on his own. 

Well, not without some trouble.

"Come on, work with me here," Prompto grumbled at the stubborn kindling that wouldn't light. His unused and hoarse voice drifted off into nothing. The last time he had spoken to Aranea was four days ago. That was the last time he heard any voice other than his own, and while the sound of it was getting annoying, it was either that or the deafening silence of the tundra. It was easier to remember his vow of returning to his friends when he wasn't faced with the emptiness of the wind blowing snowflakes all around him. 

Finally, after twenty minutes of violent shivers and desperate hope, the sticks finally caught and Prompto went to work on feeding the fire. As he breathed on the flames to give them oxygen, he watched the vapor pool in the air, dancing with the flames. Watching it was the highlight of his night, every night. It was something  _magical_ to focus on, something that weirdly reaffirmed his resolve in returning to Noct and the gang. 

As if on cue, when Prompto looked up to watch the very last rays of the sun scrabble to stay in the sky, he spotted the silhouette of train tracks. His heart jumped into his throat with the realization that he was getting close to them again. Maybe the train got delayed when they stopped in Tenebrae, maybe they hadn't started for Gralea yet, maybe he could follow the train tracks and meet them up --

Or maybe he'd missed them already, he thought, the idea plunging his heart into the pit of his stomach as quickly as it had risen. Maybe they'd reached the capital, believing Prompto to be collateral damage. Maybe they were in front of the crystal right now, relieved that their journey was over, that they had made it with only one relatively unimportant loss.

Maybe they didn't even care that he'd gotten pushed off the train. Maybe Ardyn hadn't been playing a trick on Noct, maybe everything Noct said had been how he really felt, maybe he'd end up being trapped in this frozen hell forever, maybe, maybe, maybe --

Prompto could feel himself losing the ability to breathe as he had so many times before in his life: on his birthdays; when he'd looked into the mirror and saw nothing but fat; when he'd had that very first encounter with Noctis and realized he was heavy; when he found out that he wasn't even really human --

"Aranea said it's okay," he squeaked out, the name stopping him from spiraling like he was so prone to do. The thought of her helped remind him of what he promised himself: to go after what he wanted, not to get discouraged. She wouldn't want him falling into that traps his brain kept laying, just as much as he didn't want to get caught by them. It wasn't fair to himself to assume all that just by seeing the train tracks, he told himself, and it did enough to calm his nerves down enough to focus back on the fire. "I'm just close to them. That's good. It'll get better. They're... They're my friends."

"Are they, now?" 

The sharp breath that Prompto took in almost killed the weak fire. He knew that voice anywhere now: it was the voice that had cost him everything.

He shot to his feet and yanked his trusty pistol from its chest holster, pointing it in the direction of the voice... only to find no one standing there. Prompto turned around immediately, and nothing again. His eyes darted side to side nervously, watching for any kind of movement.

"Forgive me if I startled you." Ardyn came from somewhere behind his right shoulder, an amicable yet smug smile plastered on his handsome face. "I only meant to check up on you."

"Fuck you." He spun around as quick as lightning and pulled the trigger, but missed. Ardyn had simply stepped aside and let the bullet go past his arm, never breaking the smile. 

"Such harsh language! Especially when I came here to help." His voice was sickly sweet, his head tilted in such a concerned way that could only be seen as mocking. 

"Help me by leaving me alone. Or dying, that'd be better," Prompto spat back, shooting and missing again. Before he could pull the trigger again, Ardyn was right in front of his face, snatching the gun away.

"Give that back!" The blonde jumped forward to grab the weapon, but Ardyn was too quick. Now he held the gun to Prompto, and Prompto was once again left helpless. The two stared each other down, Prompto's gaze more heated and hateful by leaps and bounds. It wasn't long before Ardyn spoke again.

"Oh, how the tables have turned," he began, the awful smile on his face only growing wider. "It seems like just yesterday that it was I who was in mortal danger. On top of that speeding train, it would have been awful to have been shot and then shoved into this tundra. Oh, wait," he quipped, as if recalling the event for the first time, "that was you, wasn't it?"

Prompto couldn't help but grit his teeth. He wasn't going to let Ardyn do this with his head. "He was supposed to be pushing you."

"Oh, dear, sweet, stupid Prompto. I was right in front of him. He saw how I was immobilized at the end of your gun. If he wanted to push me," he said, coming close, never once lowering the weapon. The next words came out as a whisper, confirming the blonde's worst nightmares: "he would have. Now, we have other business to discuss. Such as my escorting you back to Gralea."

That made Prompto's teeth clench tight. "I'm not going with you anywhere."

"Is that so?"

All at once, Prompto felt his limbs go numb like the cold couldn't make them. He couldn't move an arm, a leg, or even a finger. His mouth tried to open, to voice his protest, but he found that it didn't work either. This was magic, he realized with a feeling of his stomach twisting. He had no power to fight against it.

Ardyn's arm was extended, just in front of Prompto, controlling his entire body with just the brain it was connected to.

"Let's change that, yes?"

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a large white room where he was chained hand and foot to the corner furthest from the door, it wouldn't have been hard for Prompto to lose his mind.

There was nothing else to focus on -- his arms and legs were pulled behind him with no extra wiggle room, forcing Prompto to rest on his knees; the walls were a pure, almost blinding white, allowing for no imperfections, no cracks to follow all along the wall and make a fun maze out of; there was no food, leaving Prompto's stomach empty and aching. There was nothing to focus on except the expansiveness of white in front of him, and his own dangerous thoughts.

All his resolve had left him when Ardyn locked the door to his cell after unceremoniously throwing him in it. He had shouted, kicked, scratched, resisted -- and all for nothing. For his efforts, he'd received a boot-shaped bruise on his side, and when he saw the the chancellor press the button which locked the room, still fighting against his chains, Prompto realized just how confined he was. It made his anxiety worse than he had ever experienced it, like he was going to die from not being able to move, to hope that he could get back to his friends. Fear had overcome him so suddenly and so powerfully that he almost begged to be free.

It felt like he had been trapped there for years, just him, his thoughts, and the blank wall. He played the scene of his capture over and over again in his head: being rendered immobile by Ardyn's magic, being pushed into a Imperial aircraft, being gagged and tied up all the way to Gralea, crying and screaming in futile attempts to escape the tight grasp of MT soldiers, up until his actual imprisonment. He remembered the way Ardyn looked at him, into his eyes which he hoped were electric with fury, with an unreadable expression. It was somewhere between smug and... hungry, but not longing. That look was seared into his memory. It was a look he hated, a look that gave him a nauseous feeling, a look he wished he could forget. 

But how could he when Ardyn was in the room all the time? Sometimes, it would be to treat him like a prisoner by beating and torturing him, which was normal. Fine, even. It was the only sense of normalcy that Prompto'd had. You capture the enemy, you give them some bruises that'll last a while, no big deal. But it was the times that Ardyn wouldn't come in with bloodshed in mind that scared him the most. He never knew when Ardyn would do what: the Chancellor came in with the same demeanor every time, right up until Prompto felt a fist connect with his jaw. But in others, the burgundy-haired man would just stand and circle around Prompto, staring with that look, whisper things to make Prompto doubt his humanity, his faith in his friends, or even the desire to see them. Those sessions fucked with Prompto's head, and it was the monster in his head that would make its presence known when Ardyn was gone.

It was the monster in his head that terrorized his dreams, that had him waking with a jolt and breathing heavy. It'd happened to him just then, and he felt a jolt of pain go up his back from stressing his muscles against the chains so suddenly. His blue eyes wildly scanned the room, searching for any sign of his dream, of that look of Ardyn's on every face he'd ever seen, but to no avail. He soon calmed, and focused his attention on the white wall. He wished he didn't have to be here with dreams like that, wished that he could be with his friends.

No. Not there. He couldn't think about that, he realized with another sinking feeling. It wasn't something that he could think about without remembering falling, without a bitter cold --

His brain froze when he heard footsteps: heavy, confident,  _strong._

Prompto would know those footsteps anywhere.

His heart ended up somewhere in his jugular as his head snapped to the door of his cell. He'd been saved. Thank the six, he'd been saved.

It was Gladio on the other side of the bars, running toward his cell. 

The tall, muscular man sprinted when he saw Prompto, and it was all the blonde could do to keep from screaming out for him. Gladiolus put his hands on the bars, his hands clenching tight, his eyes staring at Prompto like he couldn't believe them. "Prompto... Gods, are you alright? How do I get you out of here?" He asked, his voice gravelly and worried.

"I -- Gladio -- I don't know, I -- I think there's a button on your side that opens the gate -- Where're the others?" Prompto rambled, his thoughts as scattered as a thousand marbles thrown on the floor. He wanted to be free, but he also needed to know where Noctis was, if Ignis was doing okay, if Gladio was holding up, if Ardyn was going to walk down the hall in half a second, a slew of MTs behind him. The last idea seized his thoughts tight, causing Prompto to lose focus on reality until he heard the familiar beep that preceded opening gates. The button had worked, and Gladio was running up to break his chains.

"Everyone's alright. We had split up to find the right way to the top, Ignis went with Noct. Seriously, are you okay?" The Shield asked, eyebrows knitted with even deeper concern.

"I'm fine," Prompto said quickly. The feeling of his limbs being set back into place was foreign and painful. He rolled his shoulders a few times and then, realizing that there was nothing covering his wrist, snapped his arm behind his back. "Let's just get the crystal."

That made Gladio smirk and chuckle. The sound of his friend's laughter was all too welcome as it dawned on Prompto that he was finally safe again, especially with the Shield. "That sounds like a fine plan. Let's go."

Gladio helped the blonde to his feet, and they set off slowly through the halls of Zegnautus Keep. 

They hadn't gone more than ten minutes in a comfortable silence before Prompto's mind started racing again, having finally come to terms with his freedom. He needed to tell Gladio about himself, but everyone else needed to know, too. He considered telling Gladio first, but Gladio would probably murder him on the spot. But waiting for nightfall for everyone to come was too long for Prompto -- he was awful at keeping secrets from his friends. He couldn't hold it in that long, especially not when he felt like he owed Gladio something in exchange for saving him from Ardyn. The stress of his dilemma must have shown on his face, because Gladio clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Is something troubling you, Prompto?"

"Oh -- It's nothing, don't worry about it." He gave a nervous little smile, trying to hide his worry. It could be saved for later, when there wasn't the task of navigating the keep that needed doing.

"You hide things from me now? That hurts my feelings." The taller man gave a small, playful smile and a side glance. Was it a glance? It felt like more than just that, more like a glint. More like it was stripping him of all his clothes, his skin, his soul.

"I'm not... hiding things from you," the blonde said, the last part coming out slowly. He decided that he didn't like that look.

"You have to be. You can't be okay after everything that's happened. Also, your mouth twitches when you're thinking too hard," he said, accompanying the statement with a press of his thumb against the corner of Prompto's lips. It shouldn't have set Prompto so on edge, shouldn't have made him recoil and back away two feet. His big, blue eyes ogled at Gladio, and he had to fight to stop his brain from interpreting this as anything else than  _just a badly timed friendly touch._ That's what it had to be, right?

"Are... Are you okay? You're acting kinda... weird." Prompto's voice was much smaller than he would have liked it to be.

As soon as he had posed the question, they had stepped into a small room that was empty save for a bucket and a bed. The rest was grimy and metallic, just like the rest of the dilapidated Keep. Without the upkeep by the Lucian government, the resting place of the Crystal had gone to shit. Prompto took one step closer inside, if only to ensure the room didn't have a potion lying around.

Gladio's handsomely rugged features tightened with confusion, but then relaxed with a look of understanding. "Oh, have I gotten something wrong?"

Prompto frowned at his friend and at the room. "I guess so. But we didn't see any more turns to make before, right? We should turn back to where you started from and try another way."

He got no response to that, but assumed that Gladio wanted to go with his idea, since he turned around to go back to the door.

"If I got it wrong," he said, "Who's the correct one? The funny little cook?" And just as easily as day slips into night, Gladio's voice transformed seamlessly into Ignis'. When he turned around, Gladio had turned into Ignis in the blink of his widening blue eyes.

"What -- Gladio -- I mean, Ignis -- How did you --"

Ignis came closer, and Prompto could see that his eyes were intact and boring right into him with that subtly critical look they always had. It did nothing to calm the feeling of nausea in his belly.

Ignis came forward, and soon enough, Prompto was backed against the wall, his bottom lip quivering with emotion. He was so confused, and scared, and ready to run out of the room to avoid Ignis' glare. The brunette put his hand on the space next to Prompto's head, making the blonde recoil even harder than he did when Gladio touched his lip.

"Not me? It certainly can't be that woman from Hammerhead, she'd have no place here... Oh! Oh, I've been so blind. Of course he'd be what you want. It was hard to guess which one you liked most when your pupils blew up at the sight of any one of them." 

Prompto's heart froze again when the voice changed again halfway through the sentence. His head had dropped to look at the floor when he couldn't look at Ignis anymore, but he knew exactly who it was. He'd know that voice anywhere, its silkiness, its beauty. 

He knew the lips that brushed against his ear -- he'd felt the same thing a million times before, knew how the voice sounded when it whispered into the shell of his ear, the lips giving a hungry and playful little nip as they did now.

"It's only fitting that a fine specimen like yourself should want a king."

Noctis' raven hair brushed against his skin, made it tickle. His whole body shivered with a mix of pleasure and outright dread. How many times had he prayed to the six for this to happen for real, when he got back to his friends? It was everything he'd wanted... But not when he knew that it was Ardyn hiding in the king's body. It made him sick to know that the chancellor had been watching him, watching the way that Prompto had looked at his friends, who he was so grateful to have. It made him even sicker to know that it was really the chancellor who was kissing his ear, the hand that had rested next to Prompto's head sinking, getting closer to his body.

With a hard shove, Prompto pushed Ardyn off of him, trying to hold back angry tears. He'd fallen right into this trap. Of course Gladio wouldn't have been able to free him without some kind of interference on the Chancellor's part. Of course it wouldn't have been so easy for Prompto to be free from his torture and teasing. But before Prompto could stop wallowing in self-pity and think about his next move, Ardyn, still posing as Noctis, was recuperating from the push, the smile of his face growing wider, contorting Noct's features like Prompto had never seen. The blonde's focus switched to the door. It was his only chance at escape. He needed to make it. Without another thought, he summoned all the strength his legs had gained from his years of running -- his years of denying the reality that he was just fat and losing weight so that maybe,  _maybe_ , he could be Noct's friend -- and sprinted for the door.

An inch or two had separated Prompto from the button that opened the door -- the button that would have saved him from a fate worse than Ifrit's.

The next thing the gunman saw was the top of Noct's head, turning red-violet from the root, the figure becoming taller. He was thrown over Ardyn's head, a feat of strength that Ardyn should not have had, and the impact he made with the cold steel floor had him seeing white spots, made his head swim.

"Oh, my dear Prompto. Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. I'm rather anxious to get this over with. It hurts me as much as it hurts you, you know. It's been... _difficult_ watching you flaunt yourself around, without me to reward you." Ardyn was himself now, his robes swishing gently across the floor as he walked to Prompto's crumpled form. 

The blonde fought to rouse himself again, and he flicked his wrist in a familiar manner. Expecting his pistol to materialize in his hand as it had so many times before, _forgetting that he had no access to the king's power_ , he lifted his arm to point his weapon at Ardyn -- but he found his arm felt much lighter when lifted, and his hand holding nothing but air. His heart decided to bury itself in the depths of Prompto's stomach. He tried again, flicking his wrist and begging for the sparks of blue to signify his gun. Begging for anything to show up in his hand, at this point. But no sensation came except the feeling of Ardyn's hand closing tight around his wrist and squeezing hard. Another scream, and Ardyn let out a laugh.

"The sight of you fighting to escape the darkness, despite how helpless you are... I think that's what has made you so tantalizing." He brought the gunman's immobilized hand to his lips, and kissed the palm, the pads of the fingers, then sucked on the skin between his thumb and index.

"You're -- You're fucking sick!" Prompto managed to say through a strained voice. Remembering he had a free hand with which to fight for himself, he sent it flying through the air, hoping to make contact with Ardyn's stupid face. No sooner had he remembered to use it than had Ardyn grabbed the fingers and squeezed the bones. Pain seared through his fingers, and he was forced to writhe against the wall. 

This couldn't be happening. 

Ardyn dragged him by his hands off the wall, and then threw him back against the floor. His eyes were liquid gold, hot and predatory, washing over Prompto and eating him up. 

"Even now, you're such a tease. But you've always been, haven't you?" He purred, leaning over Prompto's frame.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noctis was trying to keep his head on his shoulders and his walking pace slow for the millionth time after hearing Ardyn's teasing voice over invisible loudspeakers. It was about Prompto, always about Prompto, always making his skin crawl and blood boil. 

"This is taking a dreadfully long time, Your Highness. Well, maybe not so much dreadful for you, and more so other, blonder, people." 

It was taking a long time to navigate the keep. Between figuring out Ardyn's puzzles and having close calls with strong daemons and armies of MTs, he, Gladio, and Ignis had been wandering around for a few days. It was a few days too long -- Noctis was starting to lose himself to sleepless nights of replaying what he did to Prompto in his head, all the pain he must be in right now. 

Last night had been his most restful one, if only for a few hours. Gladio had been keeping watch for the king and his advisor when he had gotten fed up with the former's tossing and turning. Forcing himself to bite back the same attitude that had almost ruined their relationship on the train, the Shield sat down on the end of Noct's bed and took a deep sigh. 

" _You're not sleeping."_

_"I would be, if you weren't bothering me."_

_"No, you wouldn't. You'd be staying up again, and I'd have to start picking up your slack because you're too tired to fight."_

_"Gladio. Shut up."_

_Noctis rolled over on his hard mattress again, refusing to face his Shield. He didn't want to speak to him while he was grieving -- if he did, then everything that had happened on the train after Luna died would happen again, and he couldn't handle losing another friend or another lecture about how he needed to move on. How could he, when he'd pushed off the man he swore he'd loved? He was about to succumb to another bout of deep-rooted self-hatred when he felt the mattress sink at the foot of his bed and heard Gladio speak._

_"Listen to me, is all I'm asking. I know you miss Prompto. We all miss Prompto. But he's with Ardyn somewhere in this godsforsaken place, and we can't find him if all our minds aren't at their sharpest. So I'm asking you on behalf of him to get some sleep so we can save him."_

_The words had twisted Noct's heart more than any of his memories, and he had to fight to keep himself from crying in front of Gladio. He didn't feel smart enough in the first place to beat Ardyn -- after all, he'd fallen for his tricks on the train, twice. He had no idea how to apologize to Prompto for everything he'd done and said, for everything that had happened to him because Noct had been too emotional and stupid to analyze the situation. But Gladio was right. Noct needed to be alert in order to hear and see the hints the Chancellor gave, and to kill anything that stood between him and his boyfriend. So the prince swallowed the lump in his throat, nodded, and gave a quiet thanks. He turned to try and sleep as Gladio stood, and soon finally drifted off._

That interaction was all that had kept Noct calm after Ardyn teased him. He couldn't rush ahead into a trap and get himself killed, he needed to stay with Gladio and Ignis and fucking think.

And when they'd turned the corner, the opportunity arose. A single MT stood halfway through the hallway, facing them.

The trio stopped and stared at it, weapons at the ready and waiting for it approach. But when they neither saw nor heard movement, they knew what it was.

"A signal," Ignis said sharply, pointing out the obvious in case his sometimes-idiotic partners didn't understand the message. "What does it mean?"

As if in response, the trooper turned and started walking away.

"Should we follow it? It might be leading us to a trap," Gladio grumbled, eyes narrowed at the receding figure. The Shield looked tired of all the puzzles and mind games the Chancellor was playing, but determined all the same.

The prince glared at the MT, seeing what it would do  once it reached the end of the hall. His worst fear was confirmed when the robot turned around to face them again, still as a statue. 

Ardyn wanted them to follow... and he couldn't risk a chance to find Prompto.

"Let's see where it takes us."

\-----------

The trio had followed the trooper through fifteen turns -- Ignis had been keeping track -- to a room that stood high inside the Keep. They stood on a platform that gave way to a bridge which connected to a central hub. Several other similar platforms were spaced throughout the room, all leading to the center. It was dark except for the lights above the platforms and bridges, and the air was tight with tension and power. 

"Keep your guard up," the royal adviser said quietly, summoning daggers in his hands. A blind person throwing around daggers in a narrow space was not a good idea, but with Ardyn, there could be no slacking.

When the MT sensed that they were all caught up, it walked forward to the middle of the bridge and turned back to them. The group hardly had time to register that it was looking at them before it jumped over the edge and fell hundreds of feet to the bottom of Zegnautus Keep.

"What the hell," Noctis gasped, watching the MT take its own life. Of all the things he'd been expecting, it sure wasn't that. But the MT had outlived its use, he assumed, which meant only one thing: Ardyn was going to take matters into his own hands. 

"Your Highness! How good of you to join us. Please, make yourself comfortable." The voice was sickly sweet, wafting through the air, overstimulating the prince's senses, and confirming his fears. Down the opposite side of the central platform came the Chancellor, in all of his long-sleeved glory. His hair bounced beneath his hat as he walked from the bridge across Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis that was separated by the central hub. His hands, usually used to accentuate the theatrics, were behind him.

Every hair raised on Noct's body when he saw the Chancellor. "You. Where's Prompto?" His voice was sharp and angry, though the desperation in his voice couldn't be masked. Ardyn just smiled wider, and even let out a little laugh.

"We haven't seen each other in so long, and this is how I'm greeted? You could stand to add a little more fondness in your --"

"I'm not messing around. Give him back." The prince was not in the mood for Ardyn's games, not when he had to find Prompto. 

Ardyn's smile grew into a toothy grin. "That's not how you ask for things, Your Highness. Take a lesson from our favorite creature."

He yanked his hands in front, and his right fist was closed around the handle of a leash that pulled forward Noct's desire: Prompto, stumbling forward and looking much worse for wear. His eyes were black with fatigue, his hair was disheveled, greasy, and limp, and by the bagginess in his Crownsguard fatigues, he was considerably thinner. Bruises and cuts littered his arms, and they still hurt, judging from Prompto's cried yell when Ardyn pulled him forward so quickly.

The blonde hesitated to look up at his friends, but he looked all the same. His voice came out small and weak, and it broke the prince's heart:

"Noct?" 

It made Noctis want to scream. How many times had Prompto said his name, the words making him feel warmer than if he'd been standing right next to Ifrit? How many times had he heard his name from Prompto's lips when they were teens, sometimes over video games, sometimes between breathy kisses and tugs at hair? How many times had he heard it when Prompto was at his most vulnerable, crying into his shoulder about another bad day or when he was under Noct, letting the prince fill him up, when they were delving as deeply into their love as they dared? 

Out of all those times, Noctis had never heard Prompto call him in that voice. So terrified and hurt and pleading. And it hurt more than anything that he could barely see his face, his eyes: they were too far, there was too much space, and Noct needed to close the gap.

"You bastard!" He shouted, voice quavering with anger. Every hair on his skin was raised, every muscle in his body telling him to move closer, to take back the only person who mattered anymore from the hands of the man he wanted to kill most. "What did you do to him? What did you do?!" He took a step forward onto the bridge to get to Prompto, but a shout of his name and a rough tug from Gladio made him realize he was half a second away from falling into the deep pit of the Keep, just like the grate of iron he'd stepped onto.

"You didn't let me finish! I wanted to play a game, Prince Noctis. I want to see how eager you are to get to my little pet, here. So you'll run across your bridge fast enough to avoid falling. It's not a stylish way to die, after all." He quipped, his eyes glinting with malice and his smile curling into something between mocking and wicked.

Noct grit his teeth and turned to his friends. There were no words between them, but they all knew the answer: they had to cross.

So they lined up in an order that was hotly debated, but ended up with Noct in the front to ensure his safe arrival to the central platform, then Ignis to give him as much time as possible to keep himself safe while not endangering the prince, and Gladio in the rear to push Ignis along if he was going too slow.

They were just about to start when Ardyn raised his hand. "No. It's a game for just you and me, Your Highness. Your friends can play later."

The prince's mouth opened and closed, gritting his teeth tight. He hated this. He didn't want to play Ardyn's games and stall Prompto's rescue, but if that was what it was going to take, he'd do it. He owed it to Prompto.

"Fine."

"Noct, wait, think it through." The Shield clapped a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. There was no way he was going to let the prince go that easy into the den of the lion.

"Gladio, I know, but this is the only way. I can take care of Ardyn if anything happens."

"You're about to walk across a bridge that can have you falling to your death in a matter of seconds. You won't be fighting Ardyn, but time." Ignis calculated, standing beside Gladio. "I would advise against going anywhere we can't follow."

"I'm not a kid, Ignis, and I can't just sit and watch another one of my friends get hurt! Prompto needs us, every second we wait is another second for Ardyn to change his mind! I'm gonna walk it, and I'll be fine." He slipped his shoulder out from under Gladio's hand and readied himself in front of the gap between the platform and the bridge. 

"No, if something happens to you, then it's over for all of us! Don't walk -- NOCT!" Gladio shouted, just about to grab Noctis again, but moving too late. The prince had jumped, and started sprinting to the middle.

Noctis remembered the first and last time he had accompanied Prompto on a run. He had been vehemently against the idea since the blonde had first suggested it over a dinner of McDonald's and pizza. They'd been relaxing in his apartment for at least six hours playing video games, making stupid jokes, and even prank calling random numbers before having a meal that Prompto would leave after.

_"Man," the blonde had said after eating his second slice with fries sprinkled on the top, "this is breaking, like, every dieting rule I made for myself this month. I'm gonna have to run, like, three miles tomorrow. Oh -- Hey, Noct, you should come with me!"_

_"What? No way. I can hardly get up at seven to get ready for school, there's absolutely no chance of me getting up at the ass crack of dawn to sweat."_

_"It'll be fun! Come on, the two of us having a race and exercising and having fun is gonna be, like, the highlight of my year. Also, you owe me for all the homework you've copied off of me this year."_

_"Okay, totally unfair blackmailing, and I'm not getting up to go running! Also, three miles is a lot of exercise. I'm good."_

_"Fine, suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when you have to get fitted for a new suit for prom!"_

_And since that day, Prompto had asked his best friend every so often to go running until he had Noctis in a corner -- and that day came after losing by a hair to Noctis in Call of Duty, when the prince had decided to soothe his boyfriend's hurt pride with cuddles and kisses. Those chaste smooches had soon turned hot and wet, and then were accompanied by heavy petting. Soon enough, Noct had leaned over to the coffee table for lube and condoms when Prompto eased him back into the couch._

_"Go running with me."_

_The prince had been dumbfounded at that. "Is that seriously what you stopped me for?"_

_"Yes! I mean it, I want to go with you." His big, blue eyes were pleading, staring straight into his own._

_"Prom..."_

_"Please. I'd really appreciate it. I wanna... I wanna share that with you. The whole running thing. Another part of my life for you to be in. You'd only have to do it the once." His eyes dropped to Noct's chest, running his hands down the ridged skin. It made the the prince shiver with want, and he knew that there was no way out of it._

_"Fine. Okay. Just once."_ And the conceding had earned Noct a happy squeal, a thousand tiny kisses all across his face, and an awesome night.

That run had been awful. Noctis had to rise with the godsdamned sun, and a three-mile run from and to Prompto's apartment was not fun at all, but once they'd gotten showered and relaxed, Prompto had never looked so happy. And Noctis had decided that maybe running with Prompto now and again wasn't too awful. It'd certainly helped his stamina, and Gladio was proud of his initiative (had he known he was running for Prompto's smiles and not for his own well-being, the Shield would not have been as happy). 

It was that run that Noctis kept in mind as he sprinted across the bridge. Every step brought him closer to Prompto and one of those blinding smiles, and his feet couldn't move fast enough. He was halfway across, and then almost there, but his body betrayed him. His breath started becoming more labored, his throat was getting dry, it was getting harder to move his legs. But he was close, so close -- and as he leaped across the small space between the last grate and the central platform, he knew how close he'd been to the suffocating darkness beneath him: closer than when he'd stepped on the grate the first time, a matter of nanoseconds. But he'd made it, thank the gods, he'd made it.

Chest still heaving, he gave Ardyn a contemptuous glare. "There. I played your stupid game. Let him go." His voice was hoarse and strained from running what felt like a mile, but none of the edge was lost.

Ardyn laughed and wrapped his hand around the crude rings of metal that served as Prompto's bindings. The prince could see them more clearly now: the chains wrapped tight around Prompto's neck, connecting to his wrists in the back to serve as highly uncomfortable bonds. From the connection of the ropes of chains in the back was where the leash started, and it ended in the Chancellor's hands. But what Noctis' eyes zoned in on was his boyfriend's neck and shoulders. They were littered with dark, circular bruises, some either dripping or caked with blood, that he knew all too well: love bites that had gone horribly wrong. It made Noctis ball his nails hard into his palms, administering unto himself the pain he'd wanted Arydn to feel.

"That was a fine job, Noct. You had everyone on the edge of their seats, you almost didn't make it -- but here you are, in the flesh. Bravo! But you're not the only one who has to play. Prompto," he purred, yanking the blonde backwards and tight against the Chancellor's body. He cried out again at the jerk, but grew deathly still and silent when he realized the lack of distance between him and his captor. "Be a good boy and play with us. All you have to do is run across the bridge and into your prince's arms, just as he did. Can you do that?" His free hand caressed Prompto's face, and then grabbed his jaw to force him to look up at Ardyn. He went from still to trembling, and there was a soft nod.

"Y-Yes."

"What a good boy. Run along, now. Wouldn't want to waste time." There was a pause in which Ardyn studied Prompto's face, looking as if to be in an internal debate about something, but then deciding against it. He released Prompto's leash with a clinking sound, and then crossed his arms. The gunman moved away from him slowly, looking at the bridge, then at the Chancellor, and then back to the bridge again. He seemed uncertain, almost scared to walk. There was another moment of internal debate where Prompto looked like he wasn't going to walk, and Noct knew he needed to persuade him.

"Prompto. Please. C'mere." He walked forward to the end of the platform closest to Prompto, meant to walk forward to get even closer, but was soon stopped by a barrier. It was a glittering and electric, what his own kingly magic would have looked like if it was red. It surprised him, made him step back, and then filled him with anger. He pushed his body weight against it, tried to force himself through, but to no avail.

"Ardyn -- What the hell is this?! Stop it!"

The Chancellor's smile grew as wide as it possibly could, his sharp teeth baring themselves in a way that was almost a snarl. "You'd ruin the game if I just let you come to him. No, your rule is to stay inside the barrier, and to help you stick that rule, I took... precautions."

The prince gave a little growl of anger, and slammed his fist against the force field. The force of it reverberated waves of red all along the magic wall, but did not give way. "No -- Prompto! Please, I'm right here, don't let him control you!" He couldn't hide the panic in his voice, the need to have Prompto in his arms again when he was so close.

The blonde started breathing heavier, and he finally looked into Noct's face, their eyes meeting. Noct hoped that all the desperation he felt could be seen in his gaze, and he wished -- gods, did he wish for a lot of things -- that Prompto could have looked like anything but terrified. He wished he had more than stupid words to convince Prompto to start sprinting, because he was awful at that stuff. Everything he'd ever needed to tell Prompto was always conveyed in touches, in looks, in kisses. That gave him his idea.

"Prom, just look at me, okay? Don't focus on anything else." And he began to stare at his best friend more intently, hoping against hope that it would be enough for him. It had to be enough.

It must have been, because Prompto gave one more look backwards to Ardyn, back at Noct, and then started walking to the edge of the platform. He reached behind him to pick up the leash of his chains, took one visibly deep breath, and started running.

The bridge didn't disappear under him, and all for the better: after about four steps of running, Prompto's steps had turned to walking, and then limping. He was only a quarter across the bridge, and he already looked like he was about to pass out from pain and fear. His face was paler than Noctis had ever seen it, and it looked like it took everything him not to fall to his knees. But the important thing was that their stares never broke. Noct pressed his hands against the force field, willing Prompto to move faster, closer. There was too much time passing, there was too much space between them -- and apparently, Ardyn had thought so, too. The Chancellor seemed to have grown bored of the pathetic excuse for a run, and started walking toward his captive.

"Prom -- PROMPTO, RUN!" Noctis screamed.

Prompto's eyes grew wide, showing off the whites around the iris, and he looked behind him for the issue. The sight of Ardyn coming to take him again when he was so close to Noctis made him wail with dread. He forced himself to hurry along the little stretch of bridge he had left, a stretch that would have taken him maybe thirty seconds, tops, had he been at his healthiest. Instead, within that time, he had only gotten halfway across. With a strong wave of nausea, Noct realized that Prompto might not make it. Ardyn was closing in, Prompto had maybe another interval of thirty seconds. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let himself and Prompto play this sick game with him only to let Ardyn tear it all to shreds. So he pounded his fist on the force field, and begged, "Prom, faster, you can do it! I know you can, this is what you've been doing your whole life, please, don't let him do this!" He heard the quiver in his voice again, but it was from tears instead of anger. Prompto had to do this. He had to.

And he did. The blonde let out a shout of determination, and started sprinting again. He was almost there, and Noctis was opening his arms to intercept him, to pull him in and hold him and never ever let him go again.

And then he heard Prompto choke as the ring of chains around his throat was pulled backwards, constricting his airway. He watched Ardyn pull Prompto back into his arms, flush against his body, the hand that wasn't clenched around the connections of chains in the blonde's back wrapping around his body instead. Prompto's eyes went wide again, and were soon flooding with more tears.

"No." It was the only sound that Prompto made, quiet and quivering.

The chancellor had his lips against Prompto's ear, the smile gone and his gaze directed at Noct's face. "He did a fine job of running, didn't he, Your Highness? Given the circumstances, of course. But he was stupid for thinking I'd give my property over so easily, especially to you. And you were so excited to do it, too, weren't you, pet? You know I don't like that." He pressed a kiss to the shell of Prompto's ear before speaking again, gaze shifting to the blonde. "I think it's naughty."

That had Prompto going into overdrive. His breath hitched for a split second before he started hyperventilating, and he squirmed against Ardyn's vice grip. "No, no, please, I wasn't naughty -- Y-You said to go, please, Ardyn, you said, I'm not naughty, I was just following --" 

And the free hand balled into a fist and punched Prompto hard in the gut. It had him grunting, crumpling, falling over, forced to be held up by his restraints. Noctis let out a yell of anger and pounded hard against the force field, the situation finally sinking in. "NO! You cheated, let him go, he made it! Leave him alone!" The prince all but begged, unbidden tears reaching his eyes and watering them.

The chancellor paid no mind to the royal, only Prompto. "You weren't following my orders. You don't get to leave, remember? You're mine until I'm done with you. And I never said I was done with you, did I, naughty _boy?"_ Ardyn pushed Prompto forward, causing him to lose his balance and stumble, and then kicked him to the ground with a shoe to the back. The blonde fell to the floor hard, letting out a cry of pain. He tried to crawl forward, obviously hoping that he could hide the attempt to get to Noctis as an attempt to just get away from Ardyn. 

"I'm not, I'm not, I'm _good_ , please, you know I'm good, don't do this --" Ardyn's foot planted itself hard on Prompto's back, eliciting another wail of pain. 

"Are you telling me what to do, Prompto? Another rule broken. It's a shame. You were so close to almost being worthy, too. Looks like you're due for one more lesson." The chancellor knelt to Prompto's level, ran a hand through his hair. "What do I have to teach you every time, Prompto? Every single time?" The hand gripped the yellow hair tight between his knuckles, yanked it upward.

"AH! I -- I belong -- Please, stop, please --" All Prompto's pleading had earned him was a hard shove of his head into the cold metal beneath him. His skull and the floor connected with a sickening slam that resonated across the bridge, and Noctis let out another scream that mingled with Prompto's shriek of pain. 

"Stop, Ardyn! Fuck, just stop it!" Noctis cried out.

"Your prince is starting to annoy me, pet. Tell him the lesson you can't seem to learn, and why he shouldn't annoy me."

Prompto's eyes were glazed, and the words that came out of his mouth were thicker than last time. It didn't stop the tears leaking out, or his breath from hitching with every word. "I belong -- to -- Ardyn -- and annoying -- is bad -- naughty -- but I'm not naughty -- please, I'm good, I can be good --" The last words were strained and came out as a ramble, a plead to Ardyn.

It made Noctis sick. He glared at Ardyn with a level of contempt that he didn't know existed, and spat out, "He's not yours. He'll never be yours because he's not property, he's a person, and I'm going to kill you _very_ slowly for telling him anything else."

That made Ardyn look up, match his glare, and then laugh with mirth. "That's rich. Isn't that funny, Prompto? He thinks you're a person! But you're nothing, you're just my plaything. You've always been mine. Oh!" And that grin plastered itself all over Ardyn's face again, contorting his features and placing a malicious glint in his eyes. "I know. We can show him that you belong to me. If only you hadn't been so bad, we wouldn't have to. But the prince needs to see it for himself, and you can't go unpunished. It just wouldn't do."

An understanding seemed to pass between Ardyn and Prompto, and the latter was soon writing to get away. "NO! No, don't, please don't, I can't, please just let me go, let me go --" After that, the blonde started sobbing harder than he had before, making him too weak to fight against Ardyn's large frame and heavy weight.

"No, you're not going to touch him. Leave him alone, you sick piece of shit, LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

But Noctis was powerless. He braced himself to watch Prompto receive blow upon blow, a hail of fists and pain. 

Not for what he saw next.

"No. Nonono, no, NO! NO! STOP!" Noctis shouted out when he saw Ardyn yank Prompto's hips against his pelvis.

The prince was outright scratching against the force field, desperate to get past and save Prompto for what was going to come next. The gunman was fighting against Ardyn's hands undoing the buckle of his pants and pulling them down to expose his bare ass, purple and black from numerous bruises. Prompto was screaming his dissent, writhing and sobbing and begging Ardyn to stop. 

"You can get so noisy," was all the blood-red-haired man said in response, taking his erection out of his own pants. Once it was free, he gave himself a few hearty pumps, used one hand to guide him to Prompto's entrance, and the other to press his face tight against the cold metal grates. "But you know I like it. Look at you being good again."

Noctis' eyes were wide, giving a few tears access to the rest of his face. This couldn't be happening. Those love bites, the bruises -- they had to be from Prompto fighting against Ardyn's advances. And here he was, arms behind his back and pinned the floor, fighting again, needing Noct to _do something_ to save him instead of just watch soundlessly from the other side of an unyielding barrier.

And need Noct, he did. "Wait -- Wait, there's no -- I -- Noct -- _Noctis_ , don't let him, Ardyn, please, please, don't, Noctis, help me, help me, please, _I can't do this_ , Noct, ple --"

The shriek he made when Ardyn finally slid himself in without any preparation was bloodcurdling.

It carried across the entire room, made Noctis' body feel heavy, made time stop. As of that moment, Noctis had watched Prompto get taken by Ardyn. There was nothing he could do to turn back, to undo everything he'd done to Prompto. Especially not this.

The chamber was filled with Prompto's screams of pain from each time that Ardyn almost pulled out and then rammed back inside Prompto, burying himself to the hilt. It was abusive, it was too fast, it was painful. Soon, Ardyn pulled up Prompto's hips to get a harder, more brutal angle that had Prompto clawing at air and losing the breath with which to scream. He was hyperventilating, he was sobbing and wailing, he was trying to form coherent words, but losing the ability in favor of the need to voice his pain.

And Noctis couldn't watch. A beast in him awoke, a desperate fury to save Prompto that took over his blood, his flesh, his mind. He summoned his Royal Arms and slashed at the force field, only to have it stay an obstacle. He tried again, bringing the sword down with all the strength he could muster, and still nothing. His chest rose and fell heavily, the need to save Prompto and the inability to do so clawing at his heart. Soon enough, he was cutting at the force field without a lifetime of technique or training in mind.They were mindless, angry attacks, a last-ditch attempt to get to Prompto, the love of his life, his sunshine. He was losing him, losing himself, losing everything that'd ever mattered.

Ardyn laughed at the sight of Noct fruitlessly trying to cut through the force field. "Look at how eager your prince is to get you. Isn't it adorable? True love, indeed," he mocked, gripping Prompto's hair and forcing his head up far enough to almost touch his back. 

The raven-haired prince had recoiled from another powerful slash to the barrier, and was just about to throw his arms back for another attempt. His muscles froze, however, when bright blue eyes, framed by red sclera and fast-falling tears, meet his own. It killed him to stare into that wonderful, beautiful face and know that he could do absolutely nothing to help him. The king of Lucis, blessed by the gods and given the power of a hundred and fifteen kings before him, could do nothing to save his broken and ashamed lover from the hands of Ardyn. Noct felt his eyebrows furrow and turn upwards with shame and defeat, felt a cry claw at his throat, felt tears in the back of his eyes -- but he couldn't let Ardyn see him break down for Prompto. It would only put his boyfriend at greater risk, give Ardyn another reason to use Prompto as leverage against him. So he put away his weapon, sat down on the floor in front of Prompto, and placed a calmer hand on the red force field. It was a gesture of love, an "I'm here for you." It apparently brought on a new wave of feelings for Prompto, because he gave another, more broken cry and stretched forward, wanting to reach that hand and failing miserably.

Ardyn sneered and slammed Prompto's head back to the floor.

"But it's pointless, worthless. You're mine, a creature created solely for my enjoyment. You are exactly where you're meant to be. I'm the one touching you, filling you up. You'll never reach your prince, your friends, because you're not human. If they knew about you, they would never accept you. In fact, they'd leave you here with me." The chancellor was whispering it all into Prompto's ear, but Noct was close enough to hear. Maybe he wanted the prince to hear it, to grow furious and murderous again.

"Shut up. SHUT UP!" Noctis shouted, the gentle hand become a pounding fist on the magical partition.

"It's very ironic, Noct. You expect your friends to be your closest and most trustworthy allies, and maybe they are to some extent. But just like your father, they've been lying to you for years." 

The last sentence was strained, and his face twisted into something nightmarishly daemonic. He gave one last pound into Prompto, mustering all his strength, earning a sharp scream. Noctis' face twisted into something of horror when he realized what it meant: the bastard finished himself inside Prompto.

It was silent as Ardyn pulled himself out, and then hoisted Prompto's jeans unceremoniously over his ass. He stood, and "Clean me up," is all that the chancellor said, his blissful gaze lingering on the near-lifeless blonde beneath him. There was no fight in left Prompto, it seemed: he struggled to his knees and turned around to face Ardyn. Noctis got an all-too clear view of the blood that had pooled onto the grate, dripping hundreds of feet to the bottom of the keep. He almost gagged when he heard the quiet slurping sounds of Prompto cleaning up a concoction of Ardyn's seed and his own blood.

The sound was soon turned to choked, wet sounds, hitching breath, and quiet wails. Ardyn's hands had wrapped around Prompto's neck, keeping his head in place as he throatfucked him. Maybe it wouldn't have looked as bad as it sounded, but the fast arc of blonde hair going back and forth told Noctis that Prompto was going to deal with battered lips and a bruised neck.

Noctis couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't watch Prompto being used like he was something less than human for the purpose of spiting Noct. It was for Prompto's sake that he swallowed the gigantic lump in his throat that was his pride, looked to the floor, and choked out, "Please, Ardyn. Let him go."

The chancellor's focus snapped from his plaything to the prince, and a wicked grin spread across his face. "Sorry, what was that, Your Highness? Did you say something?"

Noctis gritted his teeth and looked at Prompto's back. A wet spot was forming on his jeans where his bottom half was leaking. "Let Prompto go. Please."

The chancellor laughed and slipped his cock out from Prompto's throat. "You know, I think both of you learned a valuable lesson today. The prince has finally asked nicely for your freedom, pet. Look at him and tell him your answer."

He twisted Prompto's head cruelly, nearly snapping it clean off his shoulders. His face was on the red side of purple, caused by the lack of oxygen and surplus of stimulation and emotion. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his eyes were glazed and unfocused, and his mouth was dripping with saliva, cum, and blood. The sight made Noctis' stomach lurch, and he drew a quiet hiss of desperation.

It wasn't long before Prompto caught his breath. He looked hesitant and afraid, knowing that the next sentence would be the difference between freedom and further captivity and humiliation. But all the same, he opened his mouth and spoke in a voice that was hoarse from screaming and suffocation, "I belong to Ardyn."

It hurt Noctis more than words could ever express to hear his lover say it.

Ardyn made a pleased little chuckle and stroked the mess of blonde hair beneath him. The gunman's muscles relaxed just a little bit, visibly relieved that he had given the right answer, no matter how much it hurt him to say it. "What a good boy! Yes, you do belong to me." It was like a teacher speaking to a stubborn student who had finally grasped a simple concept. "And it'd be good for you both to remember that. Why don't I give you something to remember, then?" 

The blonde's muscles tensed again as Ardyn rammed himself into his mouth again, picking up a faster pace. Prompto let out a choked scream, and his fingers behind his back went rigid. 

Noctis knew he fucked up by asking the chancellor nicely. There was so much to infer from a king pleading to his enemy, and it was an obvious way to show just how much Prompto meant to him. Ardyn, who lived to torture and humiliate Noctis, would never forget that. And he was sorry, he was so fucking sorry that he made that stupid mistake.

He said nothing else, made no sounds, even as Ardyn's breath came out unevenly and his moans strained, the now-familiar sound of his climax. Just as he did in Prompto's ass, he did with his throat: He slammed inside, surely bashing the smaller man's lips, and came with a sound of relief. He rocked a few times into the warm, wet orifice, riding out his orgasm, forcing Prompto to keep all of it in. When he pulled out with a squelch, he used Prompto's face to dry himself off and then tucked himself back into his pants. 

When he did, there was a tension-filled pause. Prompto wasn't looking up, but down at Ardyn's shoes, his hands now clenched into tight fists.

"Pet," he whispered in a deathly gentle voice. "take your gift."

The words sparked a fresh wave of terrified shivers in the blonde's body. There were no words, and Noctis knew what was happening. He held the vile mixture in his mouth, and he wasn't planning on swallowing it. It was heartbreaking to see Prompto being defiant to the last, never giving up the fight wherever he could. But he couldn't watch Ardyn take him again, couldn't watch Prompto lose himself again.

"Prompto. It's okay." His voice was quiet, shaky. Nothing like a prince or a king. Just a broken man who wanted to comfort his soulmate.

The encouragement put another twisted smile on Ardyn's face. "In such a small amount of time, your prince has learned more than you have in the time you've been with me. You can't let him get ahead of you like this, not when you had so many more lessons than him. Why don't you show him how much you've learned to put him in his place?" His voice was poisonous, a clear indication that Prompto had to choice but to listen. 

And the blonde bent over, body overtaken by the trembling and the onset of a new wave of tears. Then slowly but surely, he turned around again to face Noctis, and the bluenette put his hands up to the barrier. Prompto's face was smeared with a dripping pink mixture of blood and cum, his lips were red and puffy and bleeding, and dark purple fingerprints were appearing on his neck. He looked more broken than he had when Ardyn pulled him into the room, and it was still Noct's fault.

Prompto never met his eyes, choosing to focus instead on the space next to Noct's feet. There were a few more moments in which Prompto seemed to be having an internal battle, and his eyes shifted from Noct's area to the grate of metal beneath him, and he lurched forward like he was going to vomit.

Instead, he looked straight into his boyfriend's face then and swallowed Ardyn's awful gift. 

"Oh, you're so good," Ardyn gasped when he heard the wet sound of Prompt's swallow, and then the loud retching sound that followed. Prompto doubled over with the effort it took to keep everything down, but the chancellor grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him back up. "You showed him. You've done so well, I can't believe how much you've improved."

He loosened his hold on Prompto's hair, and instead pet the lifeless strands as he looked up toward Noctis. "I hate to let him go. I've spent so long training him. I hope he'll remember it all if we meet again. That is, if you push him off another train." The memory shot a sharp pang into the prince's heart, but he had to set it aside. Ardyn was going to let him go. Prompto was free.

And Noctis was going to kill Ardyn.

Before he got a chance to, however, the chancellor brushed his hand along Prompto's neck before turning around and walking off to the other end of the bridge, and it made rage boil in his blood. No. He wasn't going to let Ardyn make him watch Prompto get raped and leave with his head still on his shoulders. He banged against the force field, the desperation in his face replaced with pure fury. 

"No, get back here, so I can fucking murder you! GET BACK HERE!"

The chancellor turned his head, a sneer on his face that quickly slipped into a smile. It was taunting, dangerous. "I'm sorry, Prince Noctis. It isn't time yet for us to tussle. But if you'd like to watch me and my pet have some fun again, I'll gladly come back."

That made the room quiet again, and the two glared at each other for a long while. Ardyn had Noct under the palm of his hand with Prompto, and they both knew it. Noct would do anything to stop Ardyn from coming back and hurting Prompto again, and he'd walked right into the opportunity to admit it. But the chancellor had known that from the moment he captured Prompto. Maybe he'd known it since their high school years. Maybe he'd known it since Noctis was born.

Either way, he wasn't going to hurt Prompto again. "No. Leave him alone."

The words made Ardyn's lips curl into the daemonic smile he'd worn when he finished in Prompto. "That's what I thought. Ta ta, now." And he was off again, waving his hand when he reached the end of the bridge. The magic force field dispersed in a show of red glitter.

Ardyn was gone, just as easily as if he'd been popping in to say hello, not as if he'd just taken Prompto's entire sense of being away form him. It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered, because now there was nothing between Noctis and Prompto now but a few inches of metal.

And for all his eagerness to reach Prompto, he couldn't find the strength to take that one step. How could he, when Prompto was collapsed on the floor, barely taking in breath, scarred beyond belief, all because of him?

Yet unbidden, his feet pulled him forward, made him sit on the floor in front of Prompto's crumpled frame. He summoned a dagger and slashed at his chains until Noctis could hold the godsforsaken things in his hands and toss them over the side of the bridge. He watched as Prompto registered the lack of tension between his neck and wrists, registered that he could use his hands to push himself off the floor, that he could move his head up to look up at Noctis, that he could throw his arms around him.

Only when he felt Prompto's embrace did the prince snap back to reality. He had Prompto in his arms, he could protect him against Ardyn forever now, he could love him and never let him go. So he did just that, pulling Prompto up and close, pressing the blonde's head into his chest. There were no words, only Prompto's gradually louder sobs, their figures trembling together. There was so much running through Noct's head, so many things he wanted to say, so little time.

It was Prompto who spoke first, voice thick and muffled against the fabric of Noct's shirt. "I'm sorry."

"No," the other said immediately. "No, don't -- don't you dare, don't you dare apologize, this isn't your fault."

"No, I should have -- I should have fought -- I didn't --"

"Shut up, Prom. You did fight, you were so brave... So brave... I should be the one apologizing..." Noct's voice was failing him, it was becoming weak and quavering with tears, but he had to be strong for Prompto. Instead of saying anything more, he opted to bury his face in Prompto's hair and press light kisses into it. There was so much more to be said, he knew, but... He just wanted to be here for Prompto.

The blonde must have known, because he stayed silent too, clinging harder to his boyfriend and letting Noctis tighten his arms around his frame. They sat in silence for what seemed like forever, interrupted only by Prompto's quiet sobs and ragged breathing.

But it wasn't long before Gladio and Ignis came racing across the once-nonexistent bridge. Noctis didn't turn to them and apologize for going ahead or explain to them what had happened; his focus was on Prompto, and Prompto alone. He'd hoped that his companions would get the message, but Gladio apparently couldn't understand.

"What the hell happened?" It was Gladio's rough, gravelly voice, made sharp by concern and anger.

He must have been expecting an answer, because he shouted for their attention when they said nothing. Prompto tensed at Gladio's raised voice, pressed tight against Noctis, and then recoiled from pain. His lover shushed him almost inaudibly, and then stroked his back to keep him calm.

"Gladio, not now." Gods, Noct had never heard his own voice so quiet, so wracked with pain.

"Are you serious? You run off and almost get yourself killed, and then you're both screaming bloody murder, and you expect me not to ask about what the fuck went on?" He took a step toward them, voice biting and getting angry. Noctis instinctively leaned over to shield his lover, and Prompto said his name softly. An argument was the last thing they needed.

"Cool it! It's none of your business, and Prompto needs --"

"It's not my business? It's my job to protect your sorry ass, so everything you do is my business, especially when you do stupid shit like that. And if Prompto needs something, he can say it himself instead of hiding behind you like a coward. I thought we were past that whole stage."

Almost immediately, an expression of regret flooded the Shield's face, a realization that he probably shouldn't have said that. But it was Gladio, the man who chastised Noctis for mourning the death of his betrothed, the man who didn't know how to handle a problem without using brute force.

It made Noctis' blood run red hot. After everything, the last word Noctis would ever use to describe Prompto was _coward_. He wasn't going to let Gladio attack him, no matter how emotional the man was, and especially not now. "Shut up. You have no fucking right to say that to him, you know that?"

The Shield's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed in anger. All pretense of regret was gone, the expression on his face replaced by indignation. "I don't have the right? The amount of times I've had to pick up the slack for him, I've probably saved his life --"

"Gladio. Noctis. We cannot do this right now." Ignis' cool voice came from behind the Shield, pointed and unyielding. But when you're either a pissed off juggernaut of a man or a furious and hurting king, Ignis' words held no weight.

"Yes, we can, since Gladio thinks that it's the right time for it. So go ahead, man. Finish that sentence."

"I've saved his life enough times that I lost count. Now, I missed the opportunity, and he's sitting there like a sack, and you're hiding what happened to him like some stupid high school secret! This isn't a game, Noctis, we have to know --"

"Stop it, both of you!" Ignis said again, determined to get control of the situation.

"No, Ignis, Gladio's right, this isn't a game! You wanna know what happened so bad, huh, that you're trying to make Prompto feel like shit?" Noctis snapped back, his blue eyes stormy and glaring daggers at his friend. "Ardyn --"

"No."

That shut the prince right up. He looked down into his chest, into Prompto's face, heard his breath hitch with terror. The hands that had balled up Noct's shirt into them had loosened their grip, and the trembling of his entire body grew more violent. The sight made the fire in Noctis' blood turn into ice. Prompto was afraid to say no.

"Sorry, I -- If you -- If you want, it's okay, it's fine --"

Noctis shushed him, louder this time. One hand went up to rub his shoulder, never separating the feeling of both arms around Prompto. "No, Prom, you don't want to. That's okay. We have all the time in the world. Don't worry."

The relief that washed over Prompto was visible. His muscles stopped tensing, his eyes grew bigger, he held on tight to Noct again. It earned Prompto another kiss to the head, and Noctis wished he could kiss every inch of Prompto, make all the pain go away.

"I know you guys are upset," the prince began slowly and tersely. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you guys about crossing the bridge, and you can yell at me about it later, but right now, Prompto needs help. Do we have a potion?"

Gladio glared at Noctis for a quick second longer before grunting and turning his back, arms crossed. Ignis seemed glad for the change in conversation to more pressing matters, but then became hesitant to answer. "We... only have one."

"So give it."

"If he takes the last potion, then we don't have one until we get to the barracks. And we don't know what stands between us and there. It's best to wait until we reach it, and then attend to his wounds."

The idea of having Prompto walk to wherever the barracks were made him grit his teeth and ball up his fists in anger. Typical, that Ardyn would know to lead them to Prompto and subject him to that torture, and give them an ultimatum: Prompto or the rest of the Crownsguard. He wanted so badly to give it to Prompto. After all, none of them were hurt, they could hold their own, and based on the blonde's running performance, having him walk anywhere would make him pass out. He was about to order Ignis to hand it over when Prompto interrupted him again.

"Keep it. I... I can do it." He separated himself from Noct, albeit reluctantly. If they could have stayed like that forever, it would have been fine by the both of them.

"What? Prom, no, you don't have to --"

"Ignis is right, we can't take that chance. I don't want one of you getting hurt. Please, Noct." The last part was added when it was clear that the prince was going to argue. It closed the discussion instead, and Prompto placed his hands on either side of their bodies. "Help me up."

Noctis looked to his friends, incredulous, and then to Prompto. The blonde seemed to be bracing himself for everything he'd feel when he stood up, and Noctis wasn't going to deny him anything. He pulled his legs under himself to get ready to stand, and then hooked an arm around Prompto to help pull. "Okay. You got this?"

Prompto looked at him, bit his lip gently so as not to worry the cut that made it swollen, and nodded. Very slowly, Noctis helped him to his feet.

It wasn't slow enough. Maybe nothing would have ever been slow enough.

A scream erupted from his throat, and he would have fallen back to the floor if Noct hadn't caught him in time to keep him upright. His knees were quivering, and the grip he had on Noct's arms was as tight as if they were life. The pain that was written on every line in his face made the prince feel as helpless as he did when Ardyn was there.

"You're okay," he whispered. "You're doing awesome. So awesome. Which way are the barracks?" His voice went from soft to edged when he asked Gladio for directions. The Shield was staring wide-eyed at Prompto, utterly confused and concerned, and Noctis knew why. There were no broken legs, no blood bath that would suggest a bone-deep wound. Just bruises, small cuts, and a tiny pool of blood that had all but dried by now. 

Looking at that pool of blood made Noctis feel worse than any gash ever could.

Walking to the barracks, it was all that the prince could think about. There were a lot of things that a king could think to move past, but this just wasn't one of those things.


	2. hold hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto now has a lot of memories he wishes he could leave behind, but he's stuck with them. It's a good thing he's not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> firstly, i would like to thank everybody for leaving such nice comments. they've really been keeping me going this past month when i just wanted to scrap everything and leave only one chapter. i hope this lives up to expectations!
> 
> secondly, i have a lot of stuff in this big ol head of mine (seeing as i think of promptis day in and day out lmao), so keep on the lookout for new stuff every so often! one day i'll figure out an uploading schedule and have inspiration to write for more than an hour every three days :') anyway i'm gonna stop talking and let you enjoy so! thank you again for reading <3 !

_"My dear Prompto, you've caused quite a scene in your little home here. You kill your father, you destroy the ultimate culmination of his life's work, and then you have the naive audacity to presume that you may assist the very person he's been working to ruin -- the son of the man who has warred for centuries against your father's country,_ your _country."_

 _Ardyn circled him like a vulture does its prey -- its dead, bloody, shredded prey. It was exact, it was calculated, it was hungry, and ravenous, and a whole lot of other things that made Prompto's skin crawl, made every hair on his body stand straight up. Those hazel eyes would be watching for any hint of movement that would indicate the pride Prompto felt at being reminded of his escapades._ He was never my father; the monster he created would have killed everything; this place is not my home, _Prompto thought bitterly. But standing in the center of that room, being examined -- no, having his clothes, flesh, soul stripped from his body and closely scrutinized -- by Ardyn forced him to keep a stone expression._

_Blue eyes stayed fixed on the bed in the room. The sheets were tangled up and hanging off the side, sporadically spotted with blood; the singular pillow still had the imprint of a face being stuffed into it; the wet spot was distinctly discolored. The mere thought of what had occurred there only hours ago -- or was it days? Without a clock or even the sun, there was no way of knowing -- made Prompto sick to his stomach. But it was weirdly the only thing that could help him keep his mind off of the pure, unbidden fear that ensued whenever Ardyn spoke, for the sight of it would always replace the fear with red hot anger. The blonde grit his teeth hard,  and curled his hands into tight fists. If he could have his revenge in any form, even one as small as denying Ardyn the satisfaction of making Prompto look afraid, then he'd take it._

_The Chancellor stopped pacing just behind him, at the very edge of his peripheral vision, but not close enough for Prompto to make out any specific detail. Ardyn was a shadow behind him, nonexistent and omnipresent at the same time._

_"Despite such grievous wrongs against him, I think Verstael would be proud of his boy. After all, you're doing such a good job of keeping up a poker face, no matter how feeble it may be. Why, with a touch of formal training and practice..." Prompto felt stubble brush against the back of his jaw, felt a lewd tongue lick the nub of his ear, felt a needle jam itself into the junction of bicep and forearm, and heard a voice as dark and sultry as sin rumble low and lustily. Prompto only registered the words as he felt something cold start moving through his bloodstream, relieving him of the feeling in his limbs. He was seeing his legs start to shake rather than feeling them, and they would have given out if not for Ardyn's strong hold on his waist._

_"You could be just like your brothers."_

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Prompto hated when he didn't have control of his body. It was the only thing he could focus on when the world was starting to spin out of focus.

Trekking to the barracks was a nightmare. His muscles were exhausted from the effort it took to walk; his bones were creaking and cracking from being fractured and broken and battered; his mind was swimming and frayed from the sick, twisted games it played with Ardyn; and the pain, the  _indescribable pain_  that licked its way up his lower back like fire was almost too much to bear. Even as he leaned heavily on Noctis for support, it was hard to look at the end of each hallway without seeing it start to twist and the edges of his vision start to go white. But he had to go on -- he had to prove to himself that his body belonged to him, that he had control over getting to the barracks without a hitch.

That resolve was going to be the death of him. They had only made it across the bridge to go back into the Keep when Prompto had his first thought to pause to catch his breath and collect himself -- a thought that was quickly killed when Gladio had let out an annoyed sigh, probably at how slow they were moving. Prompto moved on without a sound, afraid to start another fight between Noctis and his Shield. The second time came when they had made their millionth turn into another endless hallway, and Prompto could hardly keep anything in focus. Despite how spaced out he felt, he figured that if he had Noctis to at least guide him in the right direction, they didn't need to stop. The third time came and went when Prompto started _sweating_ with the exertion of just moving one foot in front of the other. He had just opened his mouth to ask for a moment's respite when Ignis had called out, "Only a few more turns now, and we'll be there." If they were close, he had reasoned with himself, it was worth soldering through it all.

But those few turns were becoming much too long. Now, Prompto found himself shaking and nauseous, and if he opened his mouth, he knew he was going to be sick. In fact, everything was making him feel sick: the dark hallways, the sounds of metal creaking against metal from an MT making its rounds somewhere far off, the smell of the air and how it left the taste of rust and blood in his mouth -- it was all overriding Prompto's senses, making him want to vomit it all out until he was just  _him,_  not full of Zegnautus.

As they made another turn, he felt soft spikes lightly press into his head. Noctis had leaned in a little, a subtle way of nuzzling him. His knitted eyebrows, slight frown, and searching gaze told Prompto that he was doing a bad job of pushing through the fiery pain.

"Hey, Prom... You doing okay?" His voice was as gentle as gentle could be, and maybe in another lifetime, it would have made him swoon -- but now it just made him recoil. He'd learned that gentle voices mean dangerous things.

The blonde only nodded, keeping the sliver of his focus trained on the end of the hallway. They just had to make it there, and then the barracks might be around the corner. It had to be around the corner, because he didn't think he would be able to last much longer.

The dark eyebrows only cinched tighter together. "It's okay if you need a break. We've been walking a while now."

This time, Prompto shook his head -- much to his chagrin. Even that small movement made him dizzy enough to stumble enough so that Noctis had to keep him on his feet. The wave of nausea quickly turned into a tsunami from all the movement, and Prompto found himself gasping in air and gulping it down so that he could stop whatever was in his stomach from coming back up again.

And then an awful thought crossed his mind, clearer than any he'd had since the walk started: he knew exactly what was in his stomach. It was unwanted touches, hungry stares, naughty or good, cold metal grating, the sound of his head slamming into something, a clogged throat, swallowed gifts, and pain like he didn't know existed. Ardyn was in him, nestled comfortably, and he needed to get him out. 

Prompto pushed Noctis' hands away from him fast so that he could finally fall on his knees to the ground. His arms wrapped around his stomach, and he dry heaved and retched, _desperate_  to banish Ardyn from his insides, his bloodstream, and his head. He needed to have control over himself, and he couldn't do it if he was still full of, still _belonging_   _to,_  blood red hair and piercing hazel eyes. 

But try as he might to throw up whatever was in his stomach, Prompto could only heave up air. Nothing was working, he'd be stuck like this forever, with Ardyn as a part of him, always part of him, always there but never seen, always having a tight grip on his neck and having full authority to squeeze -- 

Unable to escape from the clever trap his mind laid for him, Prompto let out a wail. This was wrong, he had no right to break down when he was the cause of the group going in the direction opposite of the Crystal. He needed to get over himself and start being of some fucking use to Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis. He was the only one that hadn't suffered in some horrible way in order to save Noct (and, by extension, the world), -- he had only been made a short-term prisoner. He still had his vision and had never proved his worth by winning a fight against an _immortal_ , it wasn't fair to his  _only friends_  to be  _this weak._

Prompto was already trying to force himself to his knees through the pain, retching, and wet heat behind his eyes when he felt Noctis' hand splay itself across his back to keep him in place. He had leaned down to Prompto's level to help him through his episode. The concerned, fearful look in his beautiful midnight blue eyes was worse now that there was no red magical barrier obfuscating them. It made Prompto feel guiltier, and he had to turn his face away to hide the shame. Maybe the voice in the back of his head was right: he was never fit for this journey. Maybe he should have just stayed home, let men a million times stronger than him go on such a journey.

Maybe he should have been there when Insomnia was attacked -- he might have met a more fitting fate. Maybe he should have let himself freeze in Niflheim. Or maybe he should have stayed with Ardyn, with whom he would never have to worry about being such a disappointment, never have to worry about anything but laying there and  _taking it_  --

"Prompto!" Noctis' voice called out. Prompto shivered at the sound, feeling like he'd taken a jump off the deep end into a pool of ice cold water. The prince was hovering above him, then Gladio and Ignis, but their faces rippled and contorted. They sounded strangely muffled, like the water had filled up his ears, his head.  _I'm drowning from the inside,_  Prompto realized.

He opened his mouth to tell them as much, and the water came out hot, red, and thick. Then he drowned.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_It had become routine now: Prompto would wait, maybe hours, maybe days -- and as soon as he felt safe, Ardyn would come in and remind him that he should always be waiting for Ardyn's return. Human contact was supposed to be a gift._

_He'd never wish for it more than on that day._

_"Tell me, darling," Ardyn had murmured, running his hand over Prompto's bare chest, exposed by the spread-eagle position his restraints forced him into. His hands and feet had been tightly handcuffed to the bed frame, disallowing him to even turn his wrists or ankles without chafing them hard enough to draw blood. It was always walking on pins and needles with the Chancellor: even the slightest insinuation of disobedience would be immediately, brutally punished._

_"What do you fear most?"_

_His voice was even, no hint of malice or playfulness. It sounded like a genuine question, as if Ardyn wanted to get to know him better. Stationed between Prompto's hips, his eyes combed innocent and curious over pale, freckled skin, cold-hardened nipples, and slightly concave abdominals. But the indifferent attitude was Ardyn's most dangerous. It was safe to assume that he had come to visit his favorite prisoner without any actual plan of how he was going to torture Prompto today -- he was_ bored, _which meant there were extra, more obscure steps to be taken to please him. So Prompto took the look as a warning: he was_ bare _beneath the man, as open as a book. He shouldn't lie, couldn't lie._

_But where did he start? There were plenty of things that Prompto was afraid of. There was stupid stuff, like jump scares and people with holes in their skin. But there were also the more deep-rooted fears, like dying alone or never seeing his friends again. Of course, Ardyn wouldn't care about that. There were very few things he cared for._

_"I don't know." He answered plainly. Without knowing what Ardyn wanted as an answer, giving a vague answer seemed safer than giving a wrong one._

_"Oh, come now, we've known each other so intimately... Any inhibitions you might have are pointless now." Ardyn's hand stopped to grab Prompto's hip as if to emphasize his point, and he almost jerked away. Almost. Instead of earning himself some fresh wounds, Prompto settled for a pointed, hateful glare to the expanse of wall to his right. Somehow, each time Ardyn touched him felt more revolting than the last._

_Ardyn quirked up an eyebrow and used his other hands to caress Prompto's cheek. "Your emotions are showing, dearest. I can feel how absolutely angry you are with me. It's oozing from your perfect, smooth skin, out of every last follicle and pore." He leaned low over his captive, until Prompto could feel soft breaths of air against his face. It made him shiver with disgust, and he had to ball his hands up into tight fists to stop himself from reacting._

_"But I've come to realize something about humans -- it's quite pathetic, really. You get so_ angry  _with things that you can't understand. Things that are new. Things that you... fear."_

_Now Prompto could hear the slight change of tone in his silky voice, and it was enough to tighten the tension in the air. He was backing Prompto into a corner, a hungry predator readying itself to pounce on its prey. Ardyn knew what he wanted to hear, and he was going to worm it out of Prompto's mouth one way or another. The blonde pursed his lips together, frantically trying to piece things together before he could be punished._

_"What, you couldn't figure out what I'm afraid of while you were stalking me?"_

_Ardyn's face contorted into a wicked smile, and Prompto knew he was walking on thin ice. He was taking his chances, but he needed only one to get himself out of this. He prayed to the gods for one chance._

_"It wounds me that you think I'm so unobservant. As I said before, you need practice with getting your emotions under control, and it was never so obvious as when you were out frolicking with the boy king. It was all too easy to piece things together and understand just what could be done to make you do or say anything."_

_It seemed that an impregnable barrier surrounded Zegnautus Keep, blocking even the shortest of prayers from reaching the gods' ears. Prompto could feel his heart thumping hard against his rib cage as he registered the veiled threat. He was running out of time, running out of words, and he needed to say whatever it was Ardyn wanted to hear. Why were his fears so important all of a sudden? What was there to be afraid of now except for punishment? That was when it clicked -- that he was afraid of punishment, and the man who administered it. He was supposed to be afraid of Ardyn._

_He could have said the words and been done with it. It was the easiest, quickest way out of this trap. But the thought made him want to crawl into a ball and never leave. It made him feel pathetic. Ardyn had taken so much from him already -- admitting a fear of him would be giving up his autonomy, too. When he'd been chained hand and foot, it was all he had anymore to prove that he was_ human.

_Well, even if he didn't have much of his autonomy or dignity left, he wasn't going to let it go so easily._

_"I'm not afraid of you." Blue eyes met hazel in a heated moment of total contempt._

_When Ardyn's smile grew wider and toothier, Prompto knew that his lie was too easy to see through. The Chancellor laid a soft kiss on Prompto's cheek before whispering, "I was hoping you'd say that."_

_He dug in the pocket of his expensive suit pants and produced an ornate, tiny key. It was waved in front of eyes that followed its every move, and then used to unlock the handcuffs on the bedposts. The relief that washed over Prompto at the release of his marred wrists and ankles was immediate. The deep impressions of cold metal had already turned a nasty shade of purple in the hours that they'd spent dug into the skin. The blonde immediately shrunk into himself when the last cuff was undone, and then sat up to rub his hands._

_Now Prompto knew he was in deep shit. The last time that Ardyn had given him a moment's respite was when he had given him a false sense of hope, posing as Gladio and pretending to save him. The punishment for that was... Unsavory to say the least. This was the first time that Prompto had ever openly and directly defied Ardyn. If_ rape _was the first consequence for that, what would come next?_

_The large hand that grabbed Prompto's neck in a vice grip was the beginning of the answer._

_Prompto made a choked sound and immediately started trying to claw at Ardyn's fingers, but they only clenched tighter as Prompto struggled harder. So his arms fell limp at his sides -- his brain worked enough to piece together that the more he resisted, the closer he would be to death. It pained him to sit so calmly and quietly, using all of his energy to keep himself from disobeying. Orbs of yellow topaz glinted evilly into wide sapphires, the smile on his face more twisted and more crooked than he'd ever seen. There was anticipation written in his expression as well, prompting the fingers on Prompto's neck to tighten hard enough to leave bruises._

_This was going to be his death. He was going to be choked to death for his own damn pride. What a fitting way to go._

_Ardyn didn't seem to think so. He got to his feet, taking Prompto with him. They made their way to the door, the blonde stumbling and trying to find an angle that would allow him even the littlest bit of breath to stop his vision from going white at the corners, threatening to overtake him and kill, kill, kill --_

_And finally,_ finally, _he found the breath when Ardyn removed one hand to open the door and then let it rest at his side. He almost welcomed the feeling of just one hand clenched around his throat when cold dread washed over him. Ardyn wasn't one to rush a torture session -- if such a close brush with death was just the beginning, what did Prompto really get himself into?_

 _If he could have ever found the bravery to ask, it wouldn't have mattered. The only noise he could make were deep wheezes, followed by the sound of him losing his footing time and time again in an attempt to keep up with Ardyn's wide strides. So they made their way deeper into the Keep, down a number of dim-lighted hallways cluttered with rusting metal boxes. As much as he hated the decaying smell of the neglected back end he'd been stored in, and the way it made his nostrils and throat feel like they were on fire, he forced himself to take in what little of it he could breathe. He wasn't sure how long he had left, what with the with the Chancellor's countenance growing_ darker _with every passing minute until it was hard to tell if it was Ardyn walking in darkness or the darkness was shifting to follow him. It made Prompto feel trapped, suffocated... and afraid. He hated that it was true, but who wouldn't be afraid when a man who seemed to be able to command shadows had his hand wrapped around your windpipe?_

 _He also hated how_ humiliated _he felt, being forced to walk naked through cold hallways in the middle of an awful Niflheim snowstorm. He had been reduced to a pathetic, shivering mess, given purpose only through Ardyn's whims. Without him, he might be forgotten here, collateral damage in the prince's larger journey to save the world. Instead of with the Chancellor, he might be rotting in some dungeon deep down in the Keep, or maybe still stranded in the storm and waiting for death to come in some awful excuse for shelter. Even with his life hanging in the balance of Ardyn's five fingers, at least he still had a chance to live, to be found again. After all, if not to save Prompto, Noctis would come to kill Ardyn (and even then, it might not be to avenge Prompto -- because maybe he did mean to push him off the train), and maybe he could beg to be freed from Niflheim. Maybe. Prompto hated that he couldn't seem to get his thoughts in order when he was faced with a very sudden and very real danger._

_Through countless doors they walked, until they entered an elevator and stopped to let it fly them up high into the enormous building. The inside was bright compared to the desolate hallways it led out into, with white lights installed every few feet from the top to the bottom. Even the floor had a back light that made Prompto's eyes water to look at after the oppressive darkness of the outside. But now he and Ardyn were alone in a closed space, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be where he would die. At least it was more dignified than when he last had the same thought: instead of under Ardyn, he'd be standing. Maybe it would even look like he put up a fight -- it'd be a much more brave tale than "He let himself be pulled by the neck into an elevator, where he was then murdered. What a chump."_

_And then Ardyn surprised Prompto again: he let go completely, and then turned around to the elevator's interface to pick their destination. It was unceremonious as unceremonious could be, like someone telling their dog to stay._

_But without anything holding him up, the blonde dropped to the floor. He was tired from the walk, from being imprisoned for what felt like eons, from just being with Ardyn. Gasping for the breath his lungs needed, Prompto could only muster the strength to be grateful that at least he wouldn't die here. Nothing could be said for when they actually left the elevator, however._

_As the elevator surged to life and started shooting downwards, the predator turned back to his prey. The look on Ardyn's face was a calm, twisted joy, characteristic of one who was eagerly waiting for a gift. Arms crossed, he leaned back on the wall of the elevator, and fixed his captive with an inquisitive look that could only mean he wanted to play another mind game, which Prompto was in no way ready for._

_"In my line of work, dear, everyone admires me. 'Your counsel to the Emperor is keeping this country afloat.' 'Your military prowess is helping us win this war.' 'Without your idea of creating Magitek Soldiers, we would never have half the strength we do now.' Now, it is all well and good that the Niflheim empire is succeeding -- for I'd sooner have an army at my back than not, of course -- but humans have all become so docile around me. They dare not step on my toes, for fear that I will ruin their careers, their families, their lives._

_"'_ _It is better to be feared than loved_ , _if you cannot be both...' It mandates that the most successful rule comes through a perfect balance of fear and love in your power. Well... That would be especially pertinent, if I were a ruler. Unfortunately, that is just not so. I am a man who... works from the shadows. Yes. So I have the latitude with which to experiment with new forms of influence than my more royal counterparts do. I want to explore being feared rather than loved. After all, I have no use for the latter."_

_Prompto had caught his breath by the time Ardyn had finished speaking, but he felt like he had lost it all over again. That's what this was. Prompto wasn't being punished all: whatever he had answered with, he would still have ended up in the elevator, staring Ardyn down. He had played into Ardyn's sick game for himself from the beginning. But if making Prompto truly afraid was Ardyn's goal, then what the hell would be waiting past the elevator doors?_

_He didn't even have the chance to think about it -- the elevator had slowed to a stop. As always, the Chancellor knew just how to time things for the ultimate dramatic effect. If this was almost any other situation, Prompto might have laughed at his awful luck. He might have even done it now, if not for the wail that was trying to cram its way past the lump in his throat._

_He didn't know what to expect when the doors opened, and that was what terrified him the most. The elevator was the purgatory before hell._

_The doors slid apart to reveal a room that was pitch dark without the bright lights of the elevator, and a long box that sat right in the center of it all. Two MTs stood immediately to either side of the opening, and they allowed Ardyn to sweep past before entering. They grabbed Prompto by his arms with little resistance. He had no idea what was happening, and the effort it took to piece things together was taking up all his energy._

_Underground. Dark. Box. Alone. The four words repeated themselves in Prompto's head, each one screaming out to him, and yet never making sense._

_Ardyn stood behind the box, holding the lid wide open as the MTs pulled him closer. The darkness seemed a part of him, clinging to his coat, his hair, his skin, his eyes. The hazel stood out starkly against the dark, like glowing orbs in deepest black. It hugged him like a lover, filled his insides until it seemed to ooze out of every pore. Ardyn seemed like he belonged in the darkness, as if he ruled it._

_"I want to change you, Prompto. I want to make you mine. But for that, I need total, absolute, and unwavering obedience. The old you must die. So consider this the first step in your... training. Not to be like your brothers, but better than them."_

_Prompto's heels started digging into the metal floor as they approached. At only a few feet away, he could finally see what was inside the box: Absolutely nothing. No horrible thing to make Prompto beg for freedom. The only thing that stood out about it was that it was slender, allowing for no more space than his body from head to toe. He might have to cross his arms to fit. Things were starting to click on his head. Undergound, dark, box, alone._

_He was going to be stuffed in a coffin, buried hundreds of feet below the Keep._

_Prompt went into overdrive._

_"No -- Ardyn, no, wait, waitwaitwait, please, wait, I'll do whatever you want, I'll do it, I'll say it -- gods, no, please --_ _PLEASE!_ _"_

_The more he struggled, the faster the MTs marched to their master. Ardyn's smile grew wide and wicked as his captive came closer. The darkness curled with it -- it was alive, bending to Ardyn's will and threatening to swallow Prompto up like he never existed. Light and life were nothing compared to the impenetrable, total, absolute blackness that both bowed to and embodied the Chancellor. The coffin was not just a torture method -- it was to be made completely vulnerable to this darkness, until he succumbed to it, and thus, to Ardyn._

_He dug his feet into the metal floor beneath him, but it did nothing to slow the MTs. Finally, he was brought before the casket, his chest heaving and eyes daring to water and drip. He had faced a number of daemons, ranging from gigantic to small to reptilian. He had survived the coldest winter he'd ever known in the Niflheim wilderness. And he had even survived Ardyn's cruel, twisted mannerisms. The fear he'd felt in all of these instances combined paled in comparison to the terror of having to be sealed inside that box. There was only one conceivable way out of this, and Prompto would do it in order to save himself._

_"Ardyn, please -- I'm -- I'm scared, okay? You can do anything that you want to me, I won't fight or disobey you, just... Don't put me in there." It was a desperate last attempt to strike an emotional chord with Ardyn and merit some small pity. It was a hope completely unfounded, he knew -- with this man, there was hardly any emotion to be found except malice, and if the gods didn't hear his prayers up in the Keep, they wouldn't hear him all the way down here._

_But then Ardyn's face shifted. His low eyebrows tilted up, his smile fell, and his features softened. It was a look that Prompto had never seen on him before: sympathy._

_He let the casket lid go, though it stayed pried open, and made his way closer to Prompto. It seemed almost shy, as if it was Ardyn's weird way of apologizing without words. Whatever it was, Prompto would take it if that meant he could go back up to the light and space of the Keep, even if he was still a prisoner. So he stood still as Ardyn walked behind him, standing again just out of his peripheral vision -- only this time, he blended into the blackness and Prompto could only sense him there, rather than see._

_"You scare easily, dear Prompto. Did you really think I would leave you down here all alone, and no less confined in this rudimentary coffin?"_

_His hands trailed across Prompto's chest and hips, holding him flush against his body. Ardyn's clothes were expensively soft. He had a pleasant, earthly scent, like how Lucis smelled in fall. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad being his, his completely and without question. At least it wouldn't be as bad as what Ardyn had pretended to plan._

_But the gods were cruel, and they did not smile on people who spoke too soon._

_Ardyn's hands slipped away as quickly as they had come, and splayed themselves across Prompto's back. His body froze before he could register what was happening and fight back. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. He was pushed hard and fast enough that he couldn't even think to put his hands in front of him to break the fall. His head hit the raw wood of the inside of the casket, and the weight of Ardyn's boot on his back held him in place._

_"Then you're admirably perceptive. What a good boy!"_

_Prompto turned his head to look at Ardyn, to beg for his mercy, but his head hurt too much to think straight. The last thing he saw before the lid slammed shut over his body was Ardyn with shadows spilling out of his eyes and mouth, and the darkness swirling around him._

_And Ardyn would be right, he realized as he heard a lock click. Prompto would die in this box, and he would come out Ardyn's property. Just like his brothers. Just like a good boy._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Prompto woke up, he was still trapped in a tight, dark space. When he tried to scream, no sound came out.

He sucked in breath like he couldn't get enough, because there wasn't enough room,  _wasn't enough air,_  and he was going to die if he couldn't figure out how to get out of this trap and into an open space. There were a million other issues concerning Prompto's freedom -- like how he would even get out of this hellhole if the darkness was so absolute, or how he would navigate his way through the Keep without bumping into Ardyn -- but none of that mattered. His primary concern was getting the weight of a closed space off of his chest before it crushed him. But as much as he tried to fight against whatever was holding him down, he couldn't move a single limb. He could only stare into the darkness, take in the air that was perpetuating his pointless, terrifying experience.

Every feeling in his body seemed to be magnified a thousandfold. The air felt cold against his teeth and nostrils as he hyperventilated it in, his heart hammered fast in his chest, blood threw itself against his eardrums, his body trembled violently with the effort Prompto was putting in to try and move. But he was motionless and mute, stuck, alone, and destined to die hundreds of feet below the Keep where no one would ever find his body. No one but Ardyn, that is. And Ardyn would fuck his corpse and eat his soul, until Prompto belonged to him even in the afterlife, meant as his property, his toy, his good boy, his, his, his --

"... breathe, Prompto, _please breathe_ , gods, please --" A voice came in and out of focus, and Prompto  _felt_  it rather than heard it, felt it deep in his bones and his heart. It made him feel good, warm, safe. It was a voice he wanted to hear more of, like a ray of light that shone through a chink in the wood of the coffin, a chance at escape. He wanted to reach out to it and claw with tooth and nail to dig his way out of this total darkness. But he couldn't move, he just couldn't. The only thing he could do was heed the voice and focus on breathing instead. It was hard to slow it down, for he felt as though he wouldn't have enough oxygen if he breathed any slower, but with every timed breath, he found that he was still alive. Eventually, he didn't feel as though he was working double-time to feed his lungs, and he could think more clearly. 

The voice spoke again, and it was much more familiar in his head. "Yes, there you go, you're doing fine -- I need you to look at me now, Prom, okay? Can you do that for me?" Noctis pleaded. Prompto could feel hands on his cheeks, and that made him feel more solid, more  _real._  But the new task was harder than the last. It required Prompto to have a control over his body that he didn't have anymore. That control belonged to blood hair and golden eyes. 

But he needed to get to Noctis. If he could hear his voice, there was a chance of seeing him, and if that chance existed, so too did a chance at freedom. The darkness wouldn't easily let him go, however. Prompto's eyes stayed fixed on that impenetrable void, the only thing that he was absolutely sure existed. Gods, it was hard to admit that the thought was  _comforting_  -- if the darkness was there, then so was Ardyn, and that was the only person he knew existed; the man who put him down here was the only man who had the power to bring him back out. It was hard to imagine that both Ardyn and Noctis existed at the same time, that he could want to be want to be with them simultaneously. Only one difference made him fight to get to his prince: where Ardyn had made his blood run cold, Noctis made Prompto feel alive and in control of his body. The memory of having such control was strong enough to give him the power to turn away from the darkness and finally look into Noctis' face.

Everything hit him all at once.

There was white light all around him, chasing away the darkness into tiny corners where it would never grow. He was in a bed in a room, where he could stretch his limbs out and even walk around. And best of all, there was his prince looming above him, looking scared beyond belief, but gods, still there. He'd never seen a sight so beautiful.

"Noct..." He whispered. It was the only word he knew anymore. In that moment, Noctis was all that existed.

"Oh, my -- Okay, you're okay, you're alive, Prom... You're alive...!" Noctis' voice was breathy and shaking, but he sounded much happier than he looked. He collapsed on top of him, and his arms went around the blond's frame. The prince was breathing slow and deep, and the air on his chest was sweeping all of the bad thoughts away until Prompto was finally... himself. No longer an empty shell. He could smell the air, and it was scented with metal; he could taste Noct's name on his tongue, sweet and savory; he could hear Gladio's soft snoring from a lump under the blankets of a bed across the room and adjacent to Ignis' quieter sleeping frame; and he could see and feel his lover breathing against him and hugging him and being  _real._  

Prompto's arms lifted and wrapped themselves around Noctis, too, and he had never been more glad to hug someone.

"Where are we?" Prompto asked, his voice still quiet for fear of disturbing the peace. He needed to know, and he hoped that the gods were good enough to make this moment even better.

Noctis needed a few moments more to speak, as he was still taking the time to breathe Prompto in. Soon, though, he turned his head and Prompto could look into eyes of deepest midnight. "We're still in Zegnautus. We've been waiting a few days in the barracks for you to... wake up." 

But that didn't sound right to Prompto just yet. Of course, his luck wouldn't allow him to finally be free from this hellish place -- that was the least of his worries. When did he fall asleep, though, and why had it been for days? Nothing was making any sense. Then again, nothing had been making sense recently. He would have let it go and just went along with whatever plan Noctis had next, but something was nagging at him that it was important to know what had happened.

"I don't get it, why have you been -- And  _days?_  Why would I --" But as he shifted to sit up and get his bearings, a soreness like he had never felt before wracked his body and forced him back down. A stripe of flame went up his back and stopped just between his shoulder blades, a familiar sort of pain that reminded him of white rooms and bloodstained sheets. As if the memories were queued to be remembered, one snippet of the past connected to another. That room and bed could only be connected to one disgusting act that he'd done with Ardyn, and the most recent time was on some bridge, and that instance was distinctly awful because -- because --

_Oh, no._

His eyes went wide when he really, truly remembered what had happened on that bridge -- every single moment of it. The reverberations in his head when it had hit cold metal, the excruciating pain of Ardyn inside him, hurting him, the weight of Noct's eyes on him the entire time. Prompto suddenly felt very dirty, like he was covered in the Chancellor's seed and needed to take a long, hot shower to scrub everything off.

He removed his hands from around Noct's body despite how heavy and sore they felt and brought them to cover his face. The shaking came back, almost in full force, and the heat of the pain made its way behind Prompto's eyes to make them prick and water. "Gods, Noctis, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to -- not with him, I didn't want him to, didn't want him to make you --"

"Hey,  _hey,_  calm down." Noctis cupped Prompto's shoulders this time, and rubbed him slow and gentle. His voice remained steady and soft, barely anything above a whisper. It was already working to relax Prompto, but it still wasn't enough. The prince shifted himself up so that his forehead was resting on Prompto's clammy own. When he spoke again, the tone in his voice shifted to one more serious. " _I'm_  sorry, Prom. That shouldn't have ever happened, and least of all to you. And I... I know you didn't want it. Of course you didn't. He knew that, too. But it's over now. No one's ever going to hurt you again, I swear it. Prompto, on my father's grave, Ardyn's never going to get you again." His voice had grown steadily uneven, but it was due to a hot passion fueled by a bitter hate for the Chancellor. 

Prompto's gaze snapped to look up into the eyes directly above him at the mention of Regis. That certainly was loaded. He hadn't spoken about his father since they'd found the first Royal Arms. It was just another problem that Noctis had, another reason why Prompto shouldn't have mattered so much. The prince had other, more relevant reasons to take revenge on Ardyn. But he'd said it, he'd sworn on the dead Lucian king that Prompto was safe. Was he an awful person for finding comfort in that, in using Noctis' murdered father as the foundation for his promise? "You shouldn't say that," he said almost immediately, before his mind could twist things any further. "You don't know what can happen. If it does, I don't want you to feel guilty for --"

"But it's  _not!"_  Noctis had almost raised his voice, and he quickly looked back at the beds on the other side of the room to make sure that Ignis and Gladio were still asleep. After a few tense moments, the prince let out his tightly held breath and turned again to his lover. He looked as tired as Prompto felt. Prompto guessed that Noctis needed his best friend at his side as much as Prompto needed him. The raven-haired boy took one more shaky breath to calm himself down before continuing. "It's not going to happen. Ardyn keeps -- taking everything from me. Every time someone I love comes into contact with him, they get  _hurt._  He took my dad, he took Luna...! Ignis will never  _see_  again, and you... Gods, you're the only person he didn't take, who I can -- who I can  _help._  And I want to make it better Prom, please just let me make it better..." 

He was losing his composure, he was cracking, breaking, his beautiful prince who had the weight of the world on his shoulders. When so many lives depended on him, when Ignis and Gladio were always around and needing Noct to be strong, it was hard for him to ever express his feelings. And this was the only time after that night on the hotel that they had ever gotten to share their feelings. The timing was just always bad -- in tents the others were too close; in hotels, they were all too tired after long days of camping and walking and game of cards or King's Knight to really talk about anything; and in any other given moment, they were fighting for their lives. Noctis had been holding back his feelings just as much as Prompto had. What Ardyn had done had hurt both of them, and they needed to hurt and heal together. So Prompto took the opportunity to push himself forward just a little bit and press his lips against Noct's. When they connected, it was hot fire, but this time, it felt good. From Prompto's lips to his face to his fingers and toes, he felt warmth spread though him. Noctis eventually sunk back on top of Prompto's body, held him tight, and Prompto threw his arms around the other's neck. It hurt to be this close to him -- his muscles begged for space, for the feeling of a mattress against his back, but he didn't dare let go. He forced his body to ignore all memory of Ardyn in favor of his prince, his Noctis.

Because he was right -- Ardyn didn't take him. If he could be here, still with Noctis, still alive and in control of himself, then he didn't belong to him. He didn't even belong to the prince -- he belonged to  _himself,_  and all he wanted was to stand by Noctis as his Crownguard, his best friend, his lover. So when soft lips pulled away, Prompto buried himself deep in the other's neck to breathe him in and let him overwhelm his senses. There was no absolute darkness, no blinding light, just Noctis.

"I want to undo all the pain I've seen. I want to make this world... a better place. Are you still with me?" He mumbled into Prompto's hair. It was a question of whether or not Prompto could handle any more of this -- that if what he needed to get better was to leave, then it was what needed to be done to start the change. It was the stupidest question Noctis had ever asked him.

In the space of a few heartbeats in which Prompto nuzzled against Noct's skin, he gave his answer. "Ever at your side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's the end! i hope it made up for all the angst. please scream about this au with me in the comments :) !!!!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you again for reading (if you could suffer it this far lmao) !!! PLEASE leave feedback it's so greatly appreciated!


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